


Then Comes Another

by TheCraftyCracker



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-23 10:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12505004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCraftyCracker/pseuds/TheCraftyCracker
Summary: When Margaery Tyrell finds out from a loose-tongued King Joffrey that they intend to murder Robb Stark on his uncle’s wedding, she conspires with her grandmother to warn the Young Wolf. The results change everything. A Tyrell has no loyalties. They only seek to grow strong. At the end of it all, will she reign as the queen?





	1. Chapter 1 - A Tyrell's Honor

**_Summary:_** _When Margaery Tyrell finds out from a loose-tongued King Joffrey that they intend to murder Robb Stark on his uncle’s wedding, she conspires with her grandmother to warn the Young Wolf. The results change everything. A Tyrell has no loyalties. They only seek to grow strong. At the end of it all, will she reign as the queen?_

**Then Comes Another**

A Robb Stark x Margaery Tyrell fanfic

 

Chapter 1

A Tyrell’s Honor

Brown eyes bordering on gold looked from a crack in the Maidenvault where she was being held for her ‘protection’. Trepidation washed over her as the red-and-gold banners of House Lannister that were scattered across the capitol fell one by one, only to be replaced by the white-and-grey of House Stark. The roars were becoming louder and louder now, as the words being uttered became more and more distinct. The angry and frightened yells were gone, replaced by shouts of jubilation.

“ROBB STARK! The King in the North!”

“The King of the Seven Kingdoms!”

“The Young Wolf!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

The chants were being repeated and it cause Margaery to almost sigh in relief. But her happiness was short-lived when Sansa’s scream pierced the silence in the room.

Margaery turned to see steel being drawn from its sheath and a gasp from Megga, her cousin. Ilyn Payne, Joffrey’s butcher, was staring at them murderously. He was about to carry out Cersei Lannister’s orders.

_“Should King’s Landing fall to the Starks, kill Sansa.”_

The cold order echoed in her mind as she recalled how Cersei was heedless of the fact that she issued the sentence in front of noblewomen from across the Seven Kingdoms that were huddled together in a tower for their safety.

Without hesitation, her body moved to shield Sansa from the executioner, who would have yelled at her to move away if it weren’t for his inability to speak.

The Crown would not dare to kill Lady Tyrell, she thought. Or maybe if they were insane enough like Cersei, they would think that by now, they had nothing to lose and therefore would have Payne kill Margaery as well. That way, two thorns would go down with the Queen Mother. That was how the deranged woman’s mind worked.

The Rose of Highgarden absentmindedly felt something hard press against her back that looked like an ornament that held the straps of her gown together. But in truth, hidden inside the thick spine of her dress’ back was a legendary Valyrian sword that was in the possession of the Tyrells for quite some time. And she was ready to cut off Ilyn Payne’s head with it. She did not care that this would be the first time she displayed her skill with the sword in front of anyone aside from her family.

Her judgment about Cersei and Ilyn Payne was correct when the man lifted his greatsword, intending to cut Sansa even if she had to cut Margaery too. She began to pull on the ornament behind her as screams filled the air. The door opened with a bang as a blur of grey and white passed her vision and a second later, the King’s “justice” had his throat ripped open, blood spraying everywhere. It took no time for Margaery to react and shield Sansa from the blood, her skin feeling the spatters and her dress ruined.

Before she could ask Sansa if she was alright, the redhead exclaimed, “Robb!”

Sansa slipped out of Margaery’s protective embrace and sprang to the arms of a man that had haunted Margaery’s thoughts and dreams for quite some time.

She straightened as she watched the touching reunion unfold before her. Never mind that her gown of green and gold was now dyed red.

She appraised the man and was stunned as she looked into twin shards of blue ice – eyes belonging to a legend of a man who seemed far older than his years. This was a man who purportedly rode a wolf to battle and feasted on the carcasses of his enemies. Fanciful tales, but the truth of the matter was, this was Robb Stark – an undefeated and brilliant Northern lord who had outwitted Tywin Lannister himself at every turn.

But now, the only reason why this legend was alive today was because of her. And she knew that he was very aware of it.

Even without the introductions, she could see it in his eyes that he had a certain awareness to her. Now that she was staring at him, she knew instantly that he was only a man barely out of boyhood. There was a fleeting sense of relief and joy that she caught in his expression as he embraced his sister. However, once done and Sansa began presenting Margaery to the him, there was no trace of warmth in his eyes.

He could have been comely, that much Margaery knew. Beneath the blood and grime that stained his entire being, he held himself in a manner befitting a king. No amount of grandiosity from Joffrey’s part could match the natural presence and power that the man in front of her exuded. And to think, he and Margaery were of the same age. His hair was as auburn as his mother’s, albeit a shade darker. His coloring was that of a Tully, but the planes and the hard set of his chiseled features made it clear to her and to everyone that in his veins ran the blood of the Kings of Winter.

“Brother,” Sansa was saying, her soft voice nearly drowning in the sounds of victory from below, “I present to you the Lady Margaery of House Tyrell.”

Margaery, despite how she looked, curtsied low with all the grace that was ingrained in her. She ignored the bulbous eyes of the humongous direwolf that stalked behind the King. After all, despite being a fearsome creature, it saved their lives by ending Ilyn Payne’s.

“Rise.” Even his voice sounded like winter itself – deep, quiet, and cold. One word from him compelled Margaery to obey almost immediately.

Their eyes met for the first time and Margaery tried to associate the man to the loving and playful brother that Sansa always told her about, and failed miserably. Before her was a seasoned warrior that seemed more fearsome in his silence. He truly fitted his title and for the first time, Margaery wondered if her scheme of becoming this man’s queen was still ideal. Or if she could even have a semblance of control over him. He seemed to possess his own mind and others, for that matter.

She suppressed a shiver as his eyes raked over her form, making her feel vulnerable. She resented the feeling he gave her.

If this was how he usually carried himself, how was she supposed to plant the idea of him taking the Iron Throne? He conquered the capitol and the mission of saving his sister was done, but now she wasn’t sure if he would stay and be ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. It seemed that her idea of him learning his lessons from the betrayals he was subjected to worked, but in a way that turned him into this invulnerable block of ice that could very well be the reincarnation of Aegon the Unlucky.

But she had no time to doubt. She had come so far. She had dragged House Tyrell into this, and she will succeed. She would make sure that his sense of duty will force him into taking the throne as she and her grandmother had predicted.

“Sansa,” Robb Stark said, eyes never leaving Margaery’s, “This is the Lady Tyrell?”

“Yes!” Sansa enthusiastically answered. “She’s my dearest friend and – ”

“Our savior,” the King finished, unsmiling.

With that statement, the seeds of doubt within Margaery grew, for the King seemed to hold no gratitude in his visage.

_Long may he reign._

* * *

 

MARGAERY I

A month earlier…

A Tyrell knows no honor when survival and power are on the line. A Tyrell is patient and always waits for the opportune moment to strike without others knowing about it. Being one of four families from the Seven Kingdoms who were replacements of the original royals holding the regions they were currently occupying (including the Greyjoys of the Iron Islands and the Tullys of Riverrun, who gained authority of the islands and the Trident when Harren the Black of House Hoare and his heirs perished in Harrenhal during Aegon’s Conquest and the Baratheons of Storm’s End, who gained the title of Lord of the Stormlands through Orys Baratheon and Rhaenys Targraryen’s defeat of Argilac the Arrogant of House Durrandon and his subsequent marriage to the fallen king’s daughter, Argella), the Tyrells gave up Highgarden to Aegon Targaryen following the end of the Gardener line in the Field of Fire, thus granting the former stewards of the castle the title Lord of Highgarden, the Reach and Warden of the South.

Because of this, they knew how to put their heads down and work in the shadows. They had no notions of grandiosity behind their bloodline, knowing that there were some houses in the Reach who had more of the Gardener blood in them than they did. This led to the other regions overlooking them until they had become the second richest region in the realm. That was why the Tyrell family was now courted by claimants to the Iron Throne after the demise of King Robert Baratheon, which left Westeros with an unstable boy king prone to fits of murderous rage with a despised Lannister Queen Mother muttering in his ear.

The Tyrell family was ruled in a very unusual manner, too. Unlike their other counterparts, they did not give much regard to the difference between men and women, as long as they can work efficiently for the good of the family. Like their former rival, Dorne, they have much respect for their female members. However, unlike the Dornish who gave no preference to male over female heirs (as long as the eldest child reigned, regardless of their gender), they still followed the traditional way. The Tyrells, internally, were an unofficial matriarchy. They have the usual loud, prideful men with more bark than bite… then they have the women. For decades, the true power in the Reach is not Mace Tyrell, known to all as the Fat Flower and a pompous, overly ambitious oaf if there ever was one, but his aged mother, the Lady Olenna of Redwyne descent.

She held power and she wielded it well. No one suspected it from her as they only view her as a sharp-tongued woman who had no tact. Because of this, their family had prospered and retained its power despite several upheavals in her lifetime.

And she made sure to pass down the art of ruling to her granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell.

The Rose of Highgarden and youngest child of Mace and Alerie Tyrell. Her older brothers were Willas, Garlan, and Loras – all with distinct personalities essential in putting their family on the map. Willas was the most intelligent, well-read with good sense with his only impediment being a limp caused by a jousting accident that deformed his leg. Garlan was also clever, but was also kind-hearted, humble and exceptionally skilled with swords, trained in the art of actual combat. Loras had more skill than sense, as Olenna often said, with dazzling good-looks, a hot temper, and the fame of being called the Knight of Flowers after his continuous success in tourneys.

These three men surrounded Margaery, who was considered a great beauty in Westeros. A young woman of six-and-ten with softly curling brown locks, pale, unblemished skin, and a slender, womanly figure. Her most distinct feature are brown doe eyes with golden flecks that can make her look innocent and sweet. But behind this façade was a sharp wit and a mind for politics and schemes naturally inherited and nurtured by Olenna Tyrell that she should be considered as fearsome as her three brothers.

Because of her beauty and status as the sole daughter of the second richest region in Westeros, her hand was sought after. Mace Tyrell, her father, spurned these proposals, reserving the hand of his daughter only for the best – the man sitting on the Iron Throne. Above everything else, he wanted to see his daughter named Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Everything else was not good enough.

So due to this ambition, when the War of the Five Kings broke out, Margaery was married to a claimant of the throne – the deceased king’s youngest brother, Renly Baratheon. The chaos started when Eddard Stark, Hand of the King, was executed by Joffrey Baratheon, the King’s eldest son upon his death due to Lord Stark refusing to swear allegiance to the boy. It was because of the belief shared by the late Lord of Winterfell and Robert’s other brother, Stannis, that Joffrey was no true Baratheon but a bastard born out of incest – the product of Jaime and Cersei Lannister. And because of these events, the North rose up in open rebellion led by Lord Stark’s eldest son, Robb, with the Riverlands rallying behind his cause.

Renly mustered his strength soon after, refusing to back the stronger claim of his older brother Stannis and instead pressing his own. And that was how the Tyrells joined the war. By marrying Margaery, she became queen and Renly had the biggest army. However, he only knew how to do tourneys and displays of his strength and had not actually gone to any battle during the war. Thus, when he was assassinated through unknown means, the might of the Reach and the Stormlands remain intact, along with Margaery’s virginity.

Renly Baratheon was not a man who had an appetite for women. Their marriage remained unconsummated because Margaery was not the Rose that the king wanted. No. Loras was Renly’s lover, and that was how the latter was convinced that he could have the Tyrell’s support in his bid for the throne.

After the disastrous decision by Mace and Loras, renegotiations with the Baratheons and Lannisters of King’s Landing were made and thus, they had come to the capital’s aid when Stannis led his fleet across the Blackwater Bay in a failed invasion. Their reward was a betrothal between King Joffrey and Margaery, setting aside the former’s original betrothal to the disgraced Hand’s daughter, Sansa Stark.

And through all of this, Olenna was staunchly opposed to Mace’s decision to involve them in a messy war to the benefit of no one except feeding into his ambition of putting a crown on Margaery’s head.

After all the strife caused by the struggle for power, Margaery was finally just weeks away from getting her throne. As the battles rage on, it seemed that the Lannister-Tyrell alliance was unshakable and Tywin seemed more than confident enough to proceed with a royal wedding amidst all the chaos.

Margaery was finally at a position where she can affect change for the smallfolk that she so loved. She was in the Red Keep, built by Maegor the Cruel, a terrible legend, but still, a legend. She could practically feel the intrigues, power plays, plots, and stories that built the entire realm. She was in her element – a Tyrell through and through.

So if a Tyrell had no honoe and if their house was ruled by intelligent, self-preserving women, then why was Margaery Tyrell hurrying along the corridors of the Red Keep to alert her grandmother of an assassination plot against Robb Stark, the King in the North?

No one can answer that question because Margaery herself did not know the answer. All she knew was that after one of Joffrey Baratheon’s infamous hunting trips, he drunkenly and foolishly bragged to his betrothed about a plan his grandfather cooked up with Lord Walder Frey and Lord Roose Bolton to end Robb Stark’s life.

_“That traitorous animal will die soon,” Joffrey had said, drunk and unable to even sit up straight on his ornate chair inside his bedchamber._

_Margaery, all the while maintaining her usual naïve mask asked, “What animal, Your Grace?”_

_“Joffrey!” he slurred. “I told you to call me Joffrey when we’re alone.”_

_And if she did not desire to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she wouldn’t be anywhere near this ‘Joffrey’ – a boy playing at being a man. Let alone be married to him._

_“What animal, Joffrey?” she repeated with gentle eagerness. She hoped to the gods that he was pertaining to his game._

_“Robb Stark.”_

_The answer caught Margaery off-guard. Her thoughts immediately flew to Sansa Stark, the only true friend she had made at court or in King’s Landing for that matter. And this was one friendship she was strangely keen on keeping and protecting. She sincerely hoped that Joffrey would elaborate on this scheme because she could not find it in her mind to ask without sounding too curious._

_“The stupid pup broke his promise to Walder Frey and married a daughter of one of my grandfather’s vassals,” the King continued, much to Margaery’s delight. “I would raise that Westerling whore up for successfully seducing that stupid Robb Stark but my grandfather would not agree to it, I suppose. Old man Walder was so insulted that he decided to break faith with the Starks and ally with us. He also brought the support of the Boltons in exchange for the Crown giving Roose Bolton Winterfell and making him Warden of the North.”_

_Margaery’s stomach turned, a little bit surprised that Joffrey managed to string together sentences and even recall details of the plan even though he was piss drunk. He might be so excited about this plan that for him, it was unforgettable._

_“The Boltons, Joffrey?” she managed to repeat, trying again to seem stupid for Joffrey to explain further. Furthermore, the North was a region in Westeros where she paid little attention to because of the fact that it nearly had no contribution to the wealth of the kingdom. It was vast and barren, with towns few and far between. She was ashamed to acknowledge that she was confused as to who the Boltons were._

_“Yes,” Joffrey eagerly replied. “Did you know that their symbol is a flayed man? They skin their enemies, my lady. And it is said that in the Age of Heroes, they **wore** Starks as cloaks. Maybe I’ll have flaying legal once again as a means of torture. Make sure that no one dares rebel against me when faced with the prospect.”_

_Margaery willed her throbbing heart to calm down. She had to make sure that she kept Joffrey talking. She played to his unwillingness to acknowledge that true authority in the Seven Kingdoms did not lie with him._

_“Are you certain that you can tell me this, my love?” Margaery asked. “I am but a woman and I feel that I know very little about matters of politics and war. Your grandfather might not be pleased – ”_

_“I am the king, not my grandfather! I can speak to whomever I please,” Joffrey spat. “And do not be vexed, my lady. You are to be my queen! Regardless of what my insipid mother says, you are far more intelligent than any other woman in this realm. Certainly more intelligent than Sansa Stark.”_

_“You honor me so, Your Grace,” she said with a lovely flush on her face._

_“Joffrey,” the king reminded her, summoning her to sit beside him. She obeyed, her heart still hammering against her chest._

_“Joffrey,” she followed, smiling up at him as she touched his arm shyly. “Well then, tell me how we will be rid of these traitors.”_

_“At a wedding,” he responded without preamble. “Edmure Tully is set to replace Robb Stark in marrying one of the Frey daughters or granddaughters to save their so-called alliance. Another idiotic move. If he had a semblance of intellect in him, he should know that a Lord Paramount is a poor replacement for a King, even a false one at that. They will all be killed at the wedding feast for the new Lord and Lady of Riverrun!”_

_Margaery felt her body grow cold as she carefully arranged her face to one of amazement and delight. “How wonderful! And you gave this idea in a small council meeting, my love?”_

_Joffrey’s smile dropped to one of anger, immediately causing Margaery to retract. “No.”_

_“Then – ” she amended, “I am very sorry to be presumptuous enough to ask. I – ”_

_“No, no,” the boy king said, waving off her apology. “This is my grandfather’s fault for concealing information from the King. I had one of the Grandmaester’s assistants make copies of all the correspondence from the Tower of the Hand on the threat that I will have him disemboweled.”_

_Margaery sighed in relief. “True loyalty is hard to come by these days. They should obey you. You are the king.”_

_Joffrey nodded harshly, the movement causing him to lose color even more._

_“So the Lord Hand does not know that you are aware of this plan?” she asked, afraid that she might dismissed at any moment given the appearance of the King._

_“No, he doesn’t,” Joffrey said. “He was speaking in code in his letters but I had my spy decipher his words.”_

_“Truly ingenious, Joffrey!”_

_“Yes, yes,” Joffrey said, eyes drooping. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I have a long day tomorrow. I have to rest now.”_

_Relieved at the sudden excuse to leave after getting all the information she could, Margaery curtsied and left after a sweet goodbye to her betrothed._

She was careful not to appear that she was in a rush as she headed to the apartments allotted for House Tyrell. After issuing a command to her guards to make sure that she was not followed or that no one was nearby, she proceeded to her grandmother’s chambers. The Queen of Thorns was most likely in deep sleep at that moment, but her granddaughter felt that this information could not wait.

Fortunately, she was wrong.

“Good grief, child,” Olenna said with a glare from behind a tome. A small stack of parchment scattered on a desk indicated that the woman was about to respond to various people, hence the reason for her staying up at such a late hour. At least, for her age anyway. “What are you rushing here for at such an ungodly hour?”

“Grandmother,” Margaery uttered breathlessly. One look at her granddaughter’s pale face and expression and Olenna Tyrell stopped whatever it was she was doing and sent a glare at the Tyrell guards stationed at her door. “Make sure that there are no spiders or birds lurking about.”

The guards left with a nod and shut the door firmly behind them.

“Speak.”

“Robb Stark is going to die,” Margaery stated. “The Lannisters plan on killing him.”

“We are at war, aren’t we?” Olenna quipped. “That Lannisters or anyone from the four kings that remain would want to kill one another at some point.”

“Not on a battlefield,” Margaery retorted impatiently. “I wouldn’t be here if it were something as trivial as that.”

“Then by the gods, girl, how?” Olenna inquired, brows raising at the sudden alarm her usually composed granddaughter was displaying.

“Edmure Tully’s wedding. They plan to kill Robb Stark, Catelyn Stark, and the lords of the North at Lord Tully’s wedding feast.”

If Olenna was shocked at the prospect of the Lannisters committing murder at a wedding, it did not show. “I assume that you have heard of this from somewhere.”

“Joffrey,” the younger Tyrell answered in a soft voice. “The King has been planting his own spies to inform him of the Hand’s activities. He was too drunk to think that he might not want to share that information with me.”

“Or you have him in the palm of your hands,” Olenna commended. “So the boy has a modicum of intellect in that murderous mind of his. But his mouth may have been too loose for Tywin’s liking. I am assuming that the Old Lion has no idea that the King has these spies?”

Margaery shook her head. “Grandmother, we must do something. Sansa – ”

“Once Robb Stark falls, Sansa Stark is the key to the North,” Olenna cut her off. “If only we can find a way to wed her to Willas just in time…”

“Can we stop talking as though Robb Stark has died?!” Margaery snapped, startling Olenna.

“Hush, foolish girl,” her grandmother scolded. “It’s safe to say that we can do nothing at this point but secure the interests of our own family. You have done a marvelous job in getting this information from that foolish boy, but now is not the time to – ”

“Do something, grandmother,” Margaery begged. “Spare Sansa from more pain. We can still have her as Willas’ wife if we can find a way to save her brother.”

“And gain what, Margaery? You are to marry the King and be Queen of Westeros as your dull father planned. If we save Robb Stark, he retains control of the North and passes it down to any babe he might have with that Westerling girl. Whereas if he dies and is childless, the North is Sansa’s by right and if we marry her to Willas, ours.”

“That is if the Hand allows us to have Sansa in the first place. For all we know, he is concocting a plan to have her marry Tyrion Lannister.”

Olenna sighed. “And that he plans to do. I also have my spies, sweetling. So now, tell me, what do you seek to gain in saving the King in the North?”

“To help Sansa,” Margaery stated simply.

The older woman sent her a withering look. “Margaery, I did not raise you to become an honorable fool and I have never seen you act like a heroine. I know that you do not wish to be Queen in the North alone because for all his talents, the Stark boy has no intention of claiming the Iron Throne. All he wants is autonomy and tell me, who wants to be the queen of a kingdom with no resources except for ice?”

“Grandmother, I cannot fathom you agreeing to have innocents murdered as guests to a wedding! No matter what the circumstances, this is wrong.”

“I have made many decisions for this family that you can never imagine in your youth. I could sleep at night with those choices knowing that no matter how underhanded or dishonorable they were, these choices were necessary. All of this done for the survival and elevation of House Tyrell,” Olenna explained, looking Margaery squarely in the eyes. “Once you become Queen and hold the power in your own hands, you will understand why helping Robb Stark does not work out at all in our favor. And believe me, child, working for our favor is the only thing you should be concerned about in this world. Worrying about the fate of others lead to stupid decisions and eventually lead to an untimely death. Just ask Robb Stark’s father.”

Margaery was silent for a while before she spoke again, “Helping Robb Stark is in our favor. It will be to _everyone’s_ advantage except for the kings who are fighting against him.”

From the look on her face, she could tell that her grandmother was beyond exasperation now. “Pray tell, how can you be so definite about this? What benefits will Westeros have if the Stark boy lived?”

“Because out of the four kings alive grappling for power, he deserves the throne the most. You have said it yourself – Robb Stark has talent. He has everything that is necessary to become a great ruler. He just married the wrong woman due to his foolish honor and has been unsuccessful in bringing the Vale to his side,” Margaery said, folding her hands together.

“And that foolish honor is precisely why he will be a piss poor ruler,” Olenna countered. “No one lives on honor. I thought I have told you that several times!”

“I realize that, grandmother. But for all the betrayals he’s about to experience, honor will be stomped out of Robb Stark. We just have to make sure he lives to learn his lesson and become the King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Olenna stared at her as though she had gone mad. “So you want me to warn Robb Stark of this plot to murder him and throw the support of House Tyrell to his cause in the hopes that he will be convinced to take the Iron Throne? And you think that a man such as that who marries a woman just because he has defiled her before she is wed to anyone and is not even with child yet can be swayed to be King of Westeros? Finally, do you think he will even listen to a family who changes allegiances when it suits them? Answer my questions, Margaery, then maybe I can consider helping him.”

The young woman had no answer to that. And because of her silence, Olenna plowed on with a smirk on her aged face.

“Moreover, we will have nothing if he takes the throne. Even if we have Sansa marry Willas, the king already has a queen that can bear him heirs and Sansa will be pushed further down the line of succession. I will not settle for second best, Margaery. Not this time. Give me a reason why we should suddenly follow the path of righteousness or this discussion is over.”

Margaery took a calming breath, a glint showing in her eyes throwing Olenna Tyrell to a past where she could see her younger self in a mirror whenever she was about to get involved in mischief. “Because we have the power to make what is right a reality. Over the years, we have amassed enough wealth to take over the Seven Kingdoms ourselves if we wanted to. But we didn’t and it’s all because we have played by the rules of other houses and have not yet grown into the title bestowed upon us by the Targaryens. We still act, to this day, as though we were still loyal stewards and followers and that is why the Lannisters never treated us as equals.”

“But here we are, with a boy my age somehow managing to hold a kingdom so barbaric and set in its ways and yet is winning every battle and challenge thrown his way by more experienced men. He has more than enough leadership skills to bring hardened men to heel and he has a head for strategy. He outwits Tywin Lannister and he has successfully conquered the Westerlands save for Casterly Rock. He doesn’t even have dragons to do his bidding. The only mistake he has made is his queen of choice, but that does not matter. I have heard that she is unpopular and I will find a way for him to eventually set her aside and marry someone more suitable.”

“You mean you?” Olenna supplied.

“Yes.”

“This is ridiculous, Margaery. And a huge gamble. You are a mere three weeks away from being Queen and you choose to throw it all away for this gamble. For a far-reaching gamble involving a boy of six-and-ten who is already married and has no clear intentions for his own future.”

“He will become King. His honor will guarantee that,” Margaery said.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Because when he defeats the Lannisters, no one will be left to rule. And the people will not want Stannis Baratheon on the throne. Especially now that he has been defeated and has taken a red priestess as a trusted adviser. If given no choice by the people around him, he will rule Westeros as he will view this as his responsibility for deposing a monarch. We are helping him now to give him a fighting chance in this war. If he dies in battle, I marry Joffrey as originally intended. If he beats the Lannisters, Westeros will have a ruler who is not insane and I will find a way to be Queen once more. And this time, I will be married to a man who is a capable ruler and who I’m certain will treat me well.”

Comprehension dawned on Olenna’ features. “You are finding a way to get out of this marriage to Joffrey.”

Margaery nodded slowly, letting a little fear show on her face. “I want to be queen, but not his. I am uncertain if I can control him at all times, even with Loras by my side. Even the Kingslayer cannot control the humiliations Robert has subjected Cersei too. And even the noble Barristan Selmy can do nothing when King Aerys mistreated Queen Rhaella.”

“And you think you can control Robb Stark?”

“If he’s the king, I might not need to work too hard for power. Sansa has told me much about him. I might finally have a husband who will treat me with respect, who isn’t mad, and who will do his duty in the bedchamber.”

Olenna laughed at that. “Margary… you don’t have to be Joffrey’s queen. You don’t have to find a way.”

“What do you mean?” Margaery asked, her eyes narrowing.

“I have already worked things out. I would have you marry Tommen once Joffrey is dealt with. He would be easier to control, but you have to wait a little longer to be fully-fledged queen,” Olenna answered.

“What?! How?!”

“Hush, my dear. I have found a way, and I realize now that I can help you with your plan. The only failure in my original plan is not considering what Cersei Lannister might do if I have you marry Tommen. Waiting for the marriage to be consummated because the King is too young to perform… what was I thinking?” Olenna was talking more to herself than Margaery, which incensed the younger woman.

“Tell me, grandmother.”

“You just have to wait a little bit for my plan to unfold, and then maybe we can help Robb Stark,” Olenna assured her. “You still have to marry Joffrey. And I will have Willas travel to the capitol as soon as possible to win Sansa Stark over.”

“But then it will be too late! Edmure Tully’s wedding is a week from now!”

“Yes, and I will warn Robb Stark of his impending doom. I will even advise him on what to do and how to go about this,” Olenna was saying as Margery stood up and began to pace “We must be careful. And you must trust me.”

She stopped in her tracks. “You… you plan to have Robb Stark pretend to be dead. You plan on killing Joffrey at our wedding.”

“Brilliant insight, Margaery!” Olenna praised her. “Now you know why I am not surprised by the Lannister plot. I would do the same, just in a less gruesome means.”

“Poison,” Margaery stammered. “And you will have someone else take the fall?”

“Of course. But if Cersei blames us, we break from the Lannisters and take Sansa with us before we are thrown into the black cells. That will be the worst-case scenario,” Olenna replied. “Best case is she blames someone else. Ideally, her brother, the Imp. We need to break House Lannister from within. Tywin will find a way to support Cersei’s deranged accusations if it’s being made against his deformed son. It will be his way of ridding this world of Tyrion and reinstating the Kingslayer as his heir with little mess.”

Margaery started pacing again. “So we have to find a way for Tyrion to be blamed?”

“And that’s where you come in, my dear,” Olenna said with a grin. “Because if the Lannisters do succeed in marrying Sansa to Tyrion, given that they are already working on having Robb Stark killed, the Imp’s execution will invalidate the marriage. Sansa will be a widow in no time and free to marry Willas. I am certain she will be grateful to the people who will take the Imp off her hands.”

“But what if Sansa is implicated?”

“I will make sure that she does not. I will plant Willas, Garlan, or even myself by her side to act as witnesses in her favor. Maybe even your father, who will be a much more convincing witness since he has no knowledge of my plans.”

“Who knows of this plan, grandmother?”

“Me… now you. And Littlefinger,” Olenna said with a grimace.

“Lord Baelish?” Margaery confirmed with barely disguised disgust. She never liked the slimy man and she thought of him as one of the most dangerous men in the realm.

_“Do you want to be queen?”_

_“No… I want to be **the** queen.”_

“Yes,” Olenna replied. “He will not be attending the wedding as he will be too occupied marrying Lysa Arryn himself to be accused of regicide. I will then make sure that he convinces the madwoman to support Robb Stark’s cause and have the unused Knights of the Vale come at the Lannisters with their full strength. If all goes according to plan, he might even have the chance to woo Catelyn Stark.”

“Catelyn Stark? But I thought Lysa – ”

“Mark my words, Margaery. Men never cease to desire what they cannot have. For all his knowledge, Littlefinger is an incredibly simple man. All of his actions are to the benefit of his vengeance towards the family and the woman who has spurned his love. Ultimately, he wants the Iron Throne to show Catelyn that she was wrong in choosing Brandon Stark. He wants the highest ambition with either Catelyn or Sansa by his side.”

Margaery’s eyes widened. “Because Sansa is her mother through and through. Then that doesn’t guarantee that Lord Baelish will grant the Vale’s support to Robb Stark, grandmother. He is a slippery person, that one.”

“We agree on that, Margaery,” Olenna said. “But he will if I force his hand and make him see that having Catelyn Tully alive for taking is better than having her dead. He can then do as he pleases with her and her mad sister in exchange for my silence on his part in murdering a king.”

Margaery felt anxiety rack her entire frame as various scenarios played out in her mind. “I feel that our plan has many elements to it that can go wrong.”

Olenna tutted. “You wanted to support Sansa’s brother. I told you that it is the riskier out of the two options – the first being we kill Joffrey and have you marry Tommen. I have never wanted to be a part of any of this and I certainly despised being tied to these Lannisters in any manner, but your oaf of a father decided and all we must do is see things through and survive as best as we can. You have found a way out of this aside from my initial plan, granddaughter. Let us hope that helping your friend would turn out to be the best option for all of us.”

Margaery smiled and hugged her grandmother without permission, causing the older woman to awkwardly pat her granddaughter. “You’ve always told me that only fools believe that the righteous will prevail.”

“And I still believe so,” Olenna remarked when Margaery released her.

“I want it to be known this time that House Tyrell has ceased to be a bystander in the great game. I want us at the center, no matter the stakes. And we will throw our might behind what is right this time, not because we were not given a choice like the time of Robert’s Rebellion and Aegon’s Conquest.”

Olenna laughed breathlessly and pride shone in her eyes. “You may have the right of it, my dear. Very well. Keep the King and Cersei’s attentions occupied while I deal with this business with Robb Stark. Make sure that the Lannister queen thinks that you’re the most dangerous woman amongst us by stealing away her son. She is true, in that respect, but… Ah, well. I might ask Willas’ help in all of this to ensure that Dorne is with us should anything happen. We might even have Doran’s help in aiding the Stark pup.”

“Thank you!”

“At the end of it all, I will make sure that the King in the North knows who was it that saved his life. Maybe that will be enough for his advisers and for himself to set aside his ill-chosen queen and marry you,” Olenna added. “And let us hope that Jeyne Westerling also makes mistakes.”

“I will be sure to have Sansa’s help on this as well,” Margaery said. “We need her support in making me queen. She can convince her brother.”

“Good. And you don’t have to pretend to use the poor lamb for your schemes. I know you genuinely like her as a friend,” Olenna observed.

“Like a sister,” Margaery conceded with a soft smile. “She has been through so much, grandmother. She cannot lose more.”

“Tut, tut,” Olenna said dismissively. “Enough of these sentiments. Best start praying that this boy you’re willing to risk everything for is gorgeous or else it will all seem for naught. Let us hope that he does not look like the beast the rumors say.”

Margaery giggled. “You never believed in rumors, grandmother. And besides, I have seen Lady Stark. He might be comely if he inherited her looks.”

Olenna rolled her eyes. “Do not put the boy on a pedestal just yet. That’s unbecoming of you.”

“Of course, grandmother. I will no longer disturb you needlessly. I shall go back to bed.”

This was a sign that they were leaving the next steps to one another and would only convene again once everything was done. Or never, if they were dead.

A Tyrell knows no honor. And the Rose of Highgarden was a Tyrell through and through. This may have been initially thought of as a plot to protect Sansa Stark but in reality, this was to have Margaery shape her own destiny.

When the sun sets in Westeros in a moon’s turn, she will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She will be loved by all because she had given them a ruler worthy of the title – wise, just, and kind.

The Queen Margaery of Houses Stark and Tyrell. The Winter Rose. The Wolf’s Queen.

This time around, long may she reign. 

 


	2. A Stark's Deceit

**Then Comes Another**

Chapter 2

A Stark’s Deceit

King’s Landing was beautiful from afar, but you could smell the decay miles and miles away. It was odd because it was like a warning to all those who seek to enter it for any purpose. Beware of beautiful things for they are rotten inside.

Call him a simple man, but Robb Stark will never understand the allure of the capital city of the continent. Perhaps it was a Northern thing to love and appreciate simple things. They say that like the snow, Starks melt when they go south – take all his relatives who have traveled below the Neck. And that included him. He would have died, if it weren’t for the actions of a certain family. Or of a certain maiden.

He was not fast enough so without thought, his mind merged with Grey Wind’s as Smalljon Umber and his men knocked down the doors of the highest tower in the Maidenvault. Before his physical body could collapse, he tasted Ilyn Payne’s blood as the direwold ripped it open with its teeth.

The warging was so precise and fast that it almost left him unconscious. But after that certain night, he had been a master in entering the consciousness of any animal he saw fit. Or even any man. It still took a lot of energy from him, but he had to stay strong, exhausted as he was from the battle. His mind barely registered Sansa being pushed behind another young woman with brown hair about to pull something from behind her. A weapon, perhaps?

As the executioner who took his father’s life on Joffrey’s orders choked on his own blood, Robb stepped from the doors and locked eyes with his sister, who pulled away from the other girl who sought to shield her from Payne’s gruesome death.

“Robb!” Sansa cried, flying to his arms as he caught her without thinking, his mind numbed with relief. His sister had indeed grown to a young woman and his thoughts darkened at the circumstances that led her to this sudden maturity. The dark circles under her eyes, the wariness in them… The Starks had been through enough strife to last a few lifetimes and it was all because of the Lannisters. He was happy that he got there I the nick of time or else the butcher would have killed Sansa. This was probably under Cersei Lannister’s orders.

Cersei Lannister… dead a few floors below. Her son, Tommen, cold at her feet. Poisoning. Painless. A coward’s death.

When Sansa let him go, his eyes finally had time to move around the room, noting a few women who wore dresses in varying shades of green. They were huddled together in fright at the scene that had played out before them. Grey Wind remained in the room, perhaps the main source of fright for these ladies who have never seen a creature like it before. He was used to the fear and he learned that it could be a useful thing in battles.

For fear made men do reckless things.

But the sole girl who did not even flinch or cower in fear at the magnificent beast that killed their attacker moved, straightening with grace and poise as though she were not drenched in blood. She was the one nearest to Ilyn Payne when the direwolf mauled the man. But she seemed unfazed by it all, judging by the way she acted.

He knew her. Her eyes met his without hesitation and he was tempted to read her mind, but for some reason, he couldn’t. It was most likely due to his exhaustion.

Brown eyes with golden accents flicked towards Grey Wind, who stalked around her in circles, occasionally giving a growl. But there was no trace of fear in her eyes. Behind the filth was a great beauty, that much Robb could tell. However, the hardness in her expression showed an inner steel that told an experience in danger as well as confronting powerful men.

She was just a little older than Sansa, but she seemed to be of a different age entirely. Just like him.

Sansa must have sensed the tension emanating from the two because she started speaking in a falsely cheerful voice, “Brother,” as she gestured towards the defiant young woman subjected to his scrutiny, “I present to you the Lady Margaery of House Tyrell.”

Robb felt his insides turn to stone as he watched the girl dip low in a curtsy, all manner of negativity gone. It was replaced by a pliant, seemingly innocent nobleman’s daughter raised on courtly manners and highborn etiquette. He instantly hated the change. Where was the woman who braved Ilyn Payne’s greatsword? Where was the woman who defied the Lannisters to warn him of Walder Frey’s betrayal?

“Rise,” he commanded, and for a second he saw surprise flash in her eyes. She might have thought that he would be taken by her charms. Or that he would fall on his knees in gratitude. But he knew better and she should know better. He was aware of everything that was going on before he even breached the Red Keep.

The Tyrells did not make any moves without something in exchange. Before coming to King’s Landing, he learned what he could about this great southern house, especially one of their most prized members, if not the most prized. The Rose of Highgarden – twice married, once widowed.

Luxurious brown hair, pale skin, a figure that men would fight for, and a dowry that more would die for – weapons in Margaery Tyrell’s arsenal that she definitely knew how to use. He looked at her and tried to associate her with the stories that he had heard about her. She was indeed the wealthiest heiress in Westeros of Tyrell and Hightower descent. She had the best of the Reach in her bloodline and through her previous marriages, she brought men, supplies and provisions with her. She was well-loved by the smallfolk, especially the citizens of King’s Landing. Apparently, she had a charitable soul.

But the accounts did not quite match what he was looking at now. The ‘innocent’ bargaining chip of Mace Tyrell to further his ambitions and gain access to the Iron Throne definitely had a mind of her own. If she did not, how and why could she even conceive an intricate plan to extricate him from an untimely demise?

No, this was not a simple lady compliant to her father’s wishes. This was a shrewd and highly capable woman who had no qualms of turning cloaks when it best suited her. Now, he wanted to know the truth of it. How and where did he fit in this woman’s elaborate schemes? He will find out soon, but something told him that direct confrontation would never work on a person raised on southern values.

By the old gods, he missed the North.

He was observing her long enough to start unnerving her.

 _Good,_ he thought. _Know that you will have no power over me, Lady Tyrell. You will be rewarded, but not in a manner that you and your family would expect._

The impetuousness of her house knew no bounds if they thought that he would annul his marriage to Jeyne to marry Margaery. Despite what they all say, he had chosen Jeyne. It did not matter that he did not get her with child on the night that he dishonored her. It did not matter that the Westerlings had no wealth or a veritable supply of men. It did not matter that this woman before him was more beautiful and obviously more intelligent with a pedigree to be a worthy match for a King.

Because Robb Stark did not trust Margaery Tyrell. Not at all.

She was a dangerous woman to wed even though he owed her his life.

“Sansa,” he said after quite some time. “This is Lady Tyrell?”

“Yes,” his sister replied fondly. “My dearest friend and – ”

“Our savior,” Robb finished almost coldly.

He looked into her eyes and felt his mind wander into hers. For a moment. And that was all he needed.

_Now, I want to know all of your plans, Lady Margaery._

For a brief moment, he knew even without him trying.

She wanted to make him King of the Seven Kingdoms with her as his queen.

* * *

 

**ROBB I**

_To Robb Stark, King In the North,_

_I see no sense in driveling about nonsense in this letter so I will get to the point. You are in grave danger. My granddaughter has seen fit to force me to warn you of a plan that her betrothed has knowledge of. The Lannisters have conspired with Walder Frey and Roose Bolton to murder you and your loyal bannermen in Lord Tully’s wedding feast._

_It may be unreasonable for you to believe an old woman you have neither seen nor met before, especially one whose family have openly declared themselves for House Lannister, but my granddaughter’s pleas have moved me to take action. She is doing this to spare your sister, who has high hopes for you and with whom she has become great friends with, from a greater pain of losing another sibling and her mother._

_I must also confess that I cannot stomach the atrocious manner with which the Lannisters plan on disposing you. They do not place a very high regard on guest right and Tywin Lannister is known for ending houses in any way he could possibly conceive of._

_Also, Walder Frey is a vindictive man who will never forgive the slight you have done to him and his family. I admit that it was foolishness on your part to break an oath for a woman who has had no contribution to your cause. And a Westerlander at that! No matter, I believe that the Crown may have promised Lord Frey Riverrun and dominion over the Trident if he successfully delivers you to the Lannisters._

_Stubborn Northern loyalty is now lost to the Boltons, who I am certain through the information my granddaughter gathered, have also been promised Winterfell and the title Warden of the North. A legitimization awaits Roose Bolton’s bastard son. He will also take a Frey girl as wife._

_Now, you can be a silly boy once again and refuse to heed my warning or you can gather your most trusted men and find a way to circumvent this mess. I suggest not allowing your mother to attend anything celebrated under the Freys’ roof. I tell you now – honor and right are convoluted concepts for most people, especially for us born in the upper echelons of society. I have always believed that when faced with danger and death, survival will always prevail over honor in the end. For all his merits, do not be like your father, Robb Stark. Be a better man._

_My granddaughter believes in you enough despite you being a stranger to risk her life and position to help you. You know how Cersei’s boy is. If he found out, no alliance or friendship between the Tyrells and the Lannisters will spare her from Joffrey’s wrath, especially once they are wed. He may not kill her, but mark my words, he will torment her. For the love and faith of your sister, be aware that Margaery has saved Sansa so many times from the cruel boy king than you can possibly ever do or imagine._

_To calm your suspicions, Margaery has heard about this plot from the king himself as he was well into his cups to care what he says. Thankfully, he spoke of this plan in the privacy of his bedchambers and that Tywin has no knowledge of all of this. Joffrey has no recollection of what he did if the days that followed were any indication._

_Cracks are forming within the family, and you must strike now at the most opportune moment._

_I hope this letter finds you in time. I cannot send this through a raven in danger of it falling into the hands of Tywin’s innumerable spies. I have sent a rider to deliver this message to you in all haste, so give the poor boy more than a bath and a small meal. You could give him a keep, if you are truly grateful._

_If you want to win this war, might I also suggest that you feign your death after dealing with the traitors in your midst. The Lannisters will want proof of your death. Send a wolf’s head sewn into a man’s body that resembles yours most closely. Make it convincing to surprise them when you decide to attack. Use your head, I implore you._

_Should you decide to lay siege on King’s Landing, House Tyrell will lay down its arms and even assist you in finding Sansa’s whereabouts in the Red Keep. She will be with Margaery at that time, she will guarantee it. Your sister is not safe if she is close to Cersei._

_These old bones are weary of war and I long to sleep in a city that does not smell of shit. I will make sure that my son will do as he is told._

_Lady Olenna of House Tyrell_

_Burn this letter after you have read it. Again, use your head. Practice utmost caution. Trust no one._

Robb almost laughed at the gall of the woman who was known throughout the realm as the Queen of Thorns. The actual person behind the letter was an apt fit to her moniker gained because of her sharp tongue that could demolish even the greatest of warriors. She was also credited to be the true ruler of Highgarden. People showed little respect for her son, the actual Lord of the Reach due to his empty-headed and impulsive nature. He was just another power-hungry nobleman with little sense on how to use it efficiently, from what Robb had heard.

He ran a hand through his hair as he watched the parchment burn in the fireplace of his chambers in Riverrun.

 _Walder Frey…_ He felt like an enormous fool to think that such an old man would hold on to his word after Robb himself broke his. He thought of Jeyne and his father, Eddard Stark. There was only one dishonorable thing that Ned had done in his life – fathering a bastard, his half-brother, Jon Snow. The deceased Lord of Winterfell never spoke of the boy’s mother, and Robb had him in mind when he married Jeyne. However, for all his fear in preventing dishonor to befall him and the woman he had bedded, she still gave no indication that she was with child. His mother had not missed the signs and had ceaselessly pointed that out to her son albeit a bit too late. She also reminded him that his father was already married to her when he had been unfaithful. Unlike Robb who still had a choice in who he should wed, especially now that he was in the middle of a war.

Robb had no true obligation to Jeyne but there was something in him after that night that he had found out about Bran and Rickon that broke down all his walls and allowed him to be human again, not a wolf king. Eventually, he had developed an affection for his queen and gradually knew that he could well and truly love her. But not now. Not when he had other things to think about.

He wondered if he ever felt regret over his decision when his bannermen had repeatedly told him that marrying a Westerling had brought nothing but dissent from among his ranks. The questions: _was she really worth losing a war and a kingdom for? Was she the ultimate proof of the difference between honor and shame?_

He had begun to wonder after reading Olenna Tyrell’s letter. He began to think not as a vulnerable young man but as a strategist and the true King in the North.

_Margaery Tyrell…_

So if he had to fall into a woman’s arms, he should have chosen Margaery Tyrell’s. Because after his ranks splinter with the loss of the Freys, the Boltons, and even the Karstarks, he would need the wealth and power of Highgarden to win this war. He _needed_ to make new alliances. But just imagining the reactions of the northmen once he decides to ally with the Tyrells…

 _Or will they see reason if the penalty for an erroneous choice is death?_ He was reminded by Olenna’s words in her letter. Given the choice between life without honor and death with, people will always choose life, even people as stubborn as the Northern folk.

He thought and thought until he felt every bit of his strength sapped out of him. He was not stupid. It had been instilled in him since birth that his marriage would be one made for gain, and not for love. His parents married to cement an alliance between the North and the Riverlands and for the troops that such a union would bring to Robert Baratheon’s cause.

Her mother had admitted to be in love with her original betrothed, his Uncle Brandon, the true heir of Winterfell before his untimely demise in the hands of the Mad King. So it was the truth that his mother had not loved Ned Stark at first. But love _did_ blossom. And that was what Robb aspired to – that at the very least, him and his wife would not despise each other but rather grow to care and trust one another.

His thoughts briefly flew to Robert Baratheon and his Lannister queen. Theirs was the prime example of hatred so deep in a marriage that it yielded chaos. The king died in odd circumstances with no legitimate heirs, leaving three supposed children who were really bastards born out of an incestuous affair between Cersei and her twin brother. And the eldest of these bastards was a vile boy who was a worthier successor to the Mad King himself in terms of mental capacity. It was laughable, that this was the kind of person that inherited the most powerful title in the continent.

The sobering reality was that because of this marriage and the product of it, his father, Ned, had to die.

And now Robb was fighting for justice and the safety of the only sibling he knew to be alive.

He squeezed his eyes shut after realizing that he had been staring at nothing for quite some time. The betrayals knew no end. First, Theon Greyjoy, a man he thought to be his brother. Then his very own mother, who set Jaime Lannister free on the damnable promise that the man who slayed a king he swore to protect would return his sisters to her. Thirdly, Lord Karstark who murdered Willem Lannister and Tion Frey in vengeance. And now, Walder Frey and Roose Bolton. Even his uncle Edmure’s folly in not heeding his strategy that led to the turning of the tides in favor of House Lannister was as near to treachery as it could get.

He _had_ to a certain degree expected Walder Frey’s betrayal. Just not in the way that Olenna said. Allying with the Lannisters to be the worst form of oathbreakers themselves… it was unimaginable, but possible. The old man was not content to have his daughter as wife to the Lord Paramount of the Trident. He wanted her to be queen.

And the Boltons…

Roose Bolton allied himself with Tywin Lannister to become Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. In this, Robb’s blood boiled in anger. Everything started to go downhill. Even though he had won every bloody battle, he did not see his victory in the war. His army was falling apart. Everything was falling apart.

He needed to listen to Olenna Tyrell. Perhaps heeding the advice of a woman with years of political experience would yield favorable results. His own mother knew little about the complexities of southern politics and winning a war. Whereas Olenna lived a long time for a reason. She had seen a lot of things and had been alive even at the time of Aegon the Unlikely.

He needed the might of the Reach. But how? He was already married. And Olenna’s granddaughter was about to be married to Joffrey. So what did they expect him to do?

 _Sansa,_ he thought. Promise Sansa’s hand to Willas Tyrell once he rescues her from King’s Landing. That would be enough, wouldn’t it? But if he lived through all of this, even his sister’s hand proved to be measly thing once Robb had his own heirs through Jeyne. Moreover, his wealth as King in the North and the Riverlands seemed exceedingly small in comparison to the amount the Tyrell’s have in their treasury, if rumors were to be believed.

Robb sat back and mulled over his options and strategies until the sun broke the darkness. Sleep eluded him. After a deep breath, he had decided.

The time for wolves would begin with him. No more doubting. Justice would swing on the heads of the traitors and pretenders. The King summoned five people to execute his plan after their fast was broken – Brynden Tully, Greatjon Umber, Dacey Mormont, Galbart Glover, and Jon Snow.

“As King in the North and the Trident, the people will be at ease to know that justice will be served today.”

Robb’s words rang with conviction. He knew himself as a man who took little pleasure in killing anyone but there was something different today. There was something that awakened inside of him – a wilder, more feral wolf that thirsted for blood. His hands shook in anticipation, heart pounding against his chest.

He still declared himself King of the realms that had supported him from the start of the war. Murmurs erupted from the crowd. He was in King’s Landing and he stood at the very spot where his father had been many moons ago. This was the very place where Ned Stark lost his head on Joffrey’s orders.

And now, the said Baratheon king’s head was forcibly placed on the block, sniveling and wailing like a wounded dog.

“MERCY! MERCY!!!” His voice was grating on Robb’s every nerve. “I’ll take the black! I’ll do everything you want! Just don’t kill me!”

The citizens who came to watch the execution were astonished that the arrogant boy who once ordered the deaths of so many people for throwing dung on his face was now begging to be spared. That incited a stronger shout from the crowd.

“Kill him!”

“Kill that bastard!”

“Joffrey Waters!”

“Robb Stark! King of the Seven Kingdoms!”

The last statement stunned Robb. And it shocked him more when all the people started chanting his name along with a new title – King of the Seven Kingdoms. King’s Landing had accepted him as their new ruler and even declared him as their own at that moment. Robb had the allegiance of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale after the death of his aunt, Lysa Arryn. He had conquered the Westerlands and gained all of its wealth. The Reach had laid down their swords when he laid siege to King’s Landing and swore fealty to him, with Lord Mace Tyrell’s youngest son, Loras Tyrell, volunteering to be the first member of Robb’s Kingsguard. All that was left was Dorne and the Stormlands.

Could he refuse the people? Could he declare himself King of the continent?

“Joffrey Waters,” Robb loudly said, bringing the people to silence. “You are a bastard born of incest with no rights to the Iron Throne. And yet, you killed many using a power that was never yours to begin with. You have killed Lord Eddard Stark for discovering the truth of your parentage. You have ordered the deaths of countless innocents who were truer heirs of King Robert Baratheon. You have taken the lives of countless civilians to show your power. And as such, I see no reason for me to grant you the mercy you so desperately ask for now.”

“NOOOOO!!!” Joffrey cried. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!!”

“Silence!” Harrion Karstark, who was holding down Joffrey along with Cregan, his cousin, yelled. He looked to Robb and said, “You have taken my father from us, Your Grace. Even though it still pains my heart, you have promised me justice. I have returned House Karstark to your fold in exchange of the lives of this bastard and his family. Now, I beg of you, do not turn back on your word.”

This was said almost so quietly that no one save Robb, Cregan, and Joffrey heard. This caused the Lannister bastard to thrash more wildly. Piss started flowing, causing the Karstark cousins to frown in disgust and the crowd to laugh mockingly.

“In the name of my father, the honorable Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, I, Robb of House Stark, First of His Name, King of the First Men, the Andals, and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to die.”

This declaration was made with resounding joy. His heart thundered even louder, if that were possible. He had never felt anything like this in his life. He could not tell if it felt worse or better.

In Robb’s hands was the sword that was once Ice – renamed by Joffrey into Widow’s Wail and re-forged on the orders of Tywin Lannister. It felt so foreign in his hands and according to the Kingslayer, Ice was melted down into two swords. The other one, named Oathkeeper, was lost somewhere with a swordswoman named Brienne of Tarth. He had yet to locate her.

One swing was all it took, and Joffrey’s screams were no more.

The people screamed their joy. The liberation from tyranny was palpable in the air.

Robb’s gaze landed on Jaime, who was next in line. The Kingslayer never made good on his promises to Catelyn, and so Robb had sentenced him to die. He had lived far too long. After the death of his lover and two of their children, his green eyes were now empty as he was pushed on the scaffold, still fresh with Joffrey’s blood.

The new king swung his sword again to the jubilation of the people. His face remained grim but his stance was ready. Justice, whatever the word meant, felt different to him now when the fighting was over.

“Your Grace, your sword.”       

He turned away from the masses as Olyvar Frey, his squire, handed him a cloth to wipe his sword, his blue eyes collided with a pair of brown ones, tear-stricken and afraid. His own queen, Jeyne Westerling, was shaking as her eyes flitted from him to the long line of traitors about to ascend towards the block, awaiting their deaths, because among them were her own parents – Lord Gawen Westerling and Lady Sybell Spicer.     

_“You swore an oath to the Freys first, Robb,” Jon had said to him the moment he found out about his marriage to Jeyne. “No matter what you do from this day on, you can never erase the truth that you have betrayed your bannermen, not just Lord Walder. You have failed the very people who have been loyal to you and others who have been willing to side with you for the honor of a woman whose family is sworn to the Lannisters. You have asked the members of House Westerling to break faith with their own liege lords while you broke faith with the people who declared you King. Tell me, Robb. Tell me who you would be if they did not do so. You will be the disgraced son of a traitor to the Iron Throne and worse, Joffrey Waters would have declared a new Warden of the North.”_

_Robb had laughed at Jon’s statement. He never knew that his bastard brother whom he thought would take his side more than anyone else would dare question his decision. His half-brother, who always thought that honor should prevail even more than Robb, disagreed with him now._

_“Jon – ”_

_“And do not dare tell me that this was the honorable thing to do,” Jon continued, eyes flashing with emotion that Robb did not dare name, “because if you thought that you can erase Father’s mistake of having a bastard by marrying the lady, then you are sorely mistaken. We are at war and you were unmarried when you took her to bed. You had a choice. Father was another case entirely. You could still have married one of Lord Walder’s daughters or granddaughters and pray to the gods that Lady Jeyne had taken moon tea. Or perhaps you could have convinced her. She can still pretend to be a maid when she weds.”_

_Catelyn, who was present at that time, was clearly stunned by Jon’s words. After a few moments, it seemed that he had realized that the Lady Stark was there as well, because Jon blushed to the roots of his dark hair. But when they looked at her, Catelyn was looking at Jon with respect, perhaps for the first time agreeing that Robb’s choice of preventing Jon from joining the fallen order of the Night’s Watch was the best one he had made so far. And with a firm nod of agreement from his mother, Robb hung his head in shame._

And then he saw another pair of brown eyes clash with his – hard, assessing, and piercing. It was disconcerting to see the same color on a completely different woman. Margaery Tyrell, the Rose of Highgarden, was standing beside Sansa, seemingly supporting the younger Stark, who had asked for her best friend to be by her side. Robb’s sister was trembling, her eyes filling with unshed tears. Robb wanted to rush to her and tell her that Joffrey had gone and he would never torment her again. But the King could not do that – not in front of the people who wanted him to stay the strong, northern warrior they knew he was.

_My granddaughter believes in you enough despite you being a stranger to risk her life and position to help you._

His look might have conveyed something to Lady Tyrell, because she made an almost imperceptible nod as she took Sansa’s hand gently and held it with enough force to hide the tremors. Sansa gave Margaery a look of utmost relief and gratefulness but the other woman stared straight back at him.

Her lips were set in a firm line that would make any northern lord proud. His decision to allow Sansa to have Margaery stand amongst the members of the Stark family was met with a few grumbles from his bannermen. He not-so-gently reminded them that she was the reason they still had a king.

From how she looked to how she stood, it would seem that she had a slight understanding of the northern way of serving justice. Or maybe she was just playing another one of her games. He had come to learn that she was unlike any woman he had ever met in his lifetime. She was not to be taken lightly.

Robb missed the look Jeyne gave Margaery as Gawen Westerling came next.

At the execution of the fallen lord of the Crag, Robb could hear Jeyne’s muffled screams from behind him. It was apparent that she received no comfort from Lady Catelyn, who was standing beside her. The Lady of Winterfell’s face was etched on stone.

_Everything was falling apart for Robb as he looked at Black Walder’s headless corpse being attached to the head of a wolf that was found roaming around the forests of Riverrun._

_His council had decided that he stay in the castle to let Tywin Lannister think that the North had been broken. The masterminds of the ‘Red Wedding’, as many have come to call it, have been summarily executed by Robb himself. He paid no mind to the aching of his limbs and the wounds he had gotten when he took down the Freys with such ferocity that Dacey Mormont had told him that she wondered if he were possessed._

_Upon his return to Riverrun, Catelyn had told Robb that she discovered that Jeyne was drinking moon tea on the instigation of her mother, Lady Sybell. His queen was detained in her chambers until her king returned and decided what to do with her._

_“She said she doesn’t know that it was moon tea,” Catelyn had told her son. “I want to believe her Robb, it’s just that as a highborn lady, she should have known. Maesters and septas have educated us on this. The tea is something that we cannot do without, especially in case of accidents.”_

_And after everything Robb had been through, he knew that he couldn’t trust anyone except for his family._

**_The lone wolf dies but the pack survives._ **

_The cells of Riverrun had not been kind to anyone, especially if you were born into a noble family. But the Lady of the Crag had endured much suffering in her lifetime, that much Robb could tell when he first met her. She was descended from a family of traders and merchants, and it was said that she had a bit of magic in her as well. In the dark of the dungeons, the fire from the torches held by Robb’s guards illuminated her handsome features – her face hollow from lack of proper nourishment over the course of five weeks, her hair lank, but her expression frozen and strangely, hauntingly beautiful._

_“Lady Sybell,” Robb said mockingly, with no hint of a smile on his face. “You’ll be surprised to know that your dear son-in-law still lives.”_

_The lady did not look surprised at all. Instead, her cracked lips curled in contempt – her cruel face so like Jeyne’s but still managing to look the exact opposite that it disturbed the King. “Your Grace. It seems that the wolf king cannot be killed after all.”_

_“Is it true?” Robb breathed, chest hurting so suddenly. “Is it true that you gave Jeyne moon tea?”_

_Sybell scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Your Grace. I gave Jeyne moon tea. I cannot suffer wolf pups as my grandchildren and frankly, I had thought that Lord Tywin will win the war. I hedged my fortunes on a tried and tested warhorse. Forgive me for making that mistake.”_

_Robb felt the sudden urge to open the bars with his own hands and strangle the woman. “And Jeyne… did she know?”_

_“Of course not,” Sybell spat, eyes flashing once in anger once more. “You can be assured, Your Grace, that my stupid daughter has fallen head over heels in love with you and wants to bear your little beasts! Sufficed to say, I have succeeded in one thing. You have no hope for heirs in the near future. And can I say, as long as you live?”_

_“What?!” Robb shouted._

_“Yes,” Sybell drawled as she stood gracefully. She moved closer to him, leaning her face against the bars of her cell. “I learned a few tricks from my wretched grandmother. Moon tea and a little slip of my hand and I may have rendered your little queen barren for the rest of her life.”_

“Long may you reign, Your Grace,” Sybell said as she bowed in a taunting manner which would have made Cersei Lannister herself proud.

“Mother…” Jeyne called out from behind Robb, ignorant of her mother’s schemes with her husband granting her a small mercy of protecting her from the cruelties of the world.

 _Let my wife think that there is still a little kindness in this world. That her mother did not betray her. That she can still bear children, even if it is a lie,_ Robb thought as Sybell was forced to her knees, unable to look back at her heartbroken daughter.

_Jeyne only knows that her mother had conspired with the Freys to give me to the Lannisters. Not that she poisoned her own daughter’s womb._

_A little kindness._

“Can you hear me, Jeyne?!” Sybell suddenly screeched. “Your beloved husband will set you aside in a year’s time, mark my words!”

Cregan cursed as Sybell bit his hand and sprinted towards Jeyne, whispering urgently in her ear before being torn away and pushed back down the block.

Robb stared at his queen, her eyes wide with fear as Sybell continued screaming, “Then comes another! More beloved! More beautiful! Cleverer than you, stupid girl! She will cast you down and take away all that you love and give your Stark king heirs that you can never give! Remember that, sweet Jeyne! You will be the second dead Westerling queen!”

And then he saw it.

Catelyn Stark must have heard for she was looking at Jeyne with a helpless expression on her face as the young woman’s eyes were fixed on another, standing a few feet away.

At Margaery Tyrell.

_“Remember this, Jeyne. You’ll be queen, for a time. Then comes another.”_

Robb gritted his teeth as he ended Sybell’s life, almost severing Cregan’s hand who could barely keep the woman still. This execution was messy and too hasty, as he was more concentrated on ending Jeyne’s misery.

Gasps were heard as the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms collapsed in a weakened heap at Catelyn Stark’s feet.

* * *

 

_Several moons ago…_

A continuous pounding beat of the drums.

His mother seated between Ryman Frey and Roose Bolton, her face conveying how displeased she was with the wedding feast.

He watches as his uncle makes a fool of himself on landing a beautiful Frey wife, Roslin.

Olyvar was missing – an odd occurrence. A king without his squire was truly odd.

Dacey Mormont walking up to Edwyn Frey for a dance, but refuses her quite violently.

The Rains of Castamere began to play.

These were the events that would have played out if Robb had not been warned. If he had not heeded Olenna Tyrell’s advice. If he hadn’t listened as he always did.

He was asked why the Lady Catelyn was not in attendance. He responded quite easily. A lie, which he rarely did. The Lady Catelyn was sick with a terrible fever. Walder’s smile was genuine that time. Robb had made it seem like his own mother was dying.

He watched as Walder Frey raised his goblet to toast the union of Edmure and Roslin. He wasn’t good at feigning his emotions, but surprisingly, tonight it was as easy as breathing. He met the old man’s eyes with the same depth of feeling as he could muster – smiling with stony, cold eyes.

_“What?!”_

_It took almost all of them to stop the Greatjon from marching to the Twins himself and massacre every Frey that he could get his hands on. Robb had made quick work of the information that he had received from Olenna Tyrell. As every word passed from his lips, he saw varying degrees of anger, indignation, and anxiety from the people that he had summoned. By the end of his story, Jon’s usually grim face had descended into the darkest expression Robb had ever seen. Dacey’s fists were clenched so tightly that they were turning white. Brynden was cursing under his breath, muttering the words “Damn Freys and Boltons… damn them all to seven hells.”_

_Greatjon Umber had the worst reaction. If he had carried his battle axe in Robb’s council chambers, he would have hacked the first Bolton man he saw. And there were quite a few of them left in Riverrun. Roose Bolton himself was in Harrenhal, set to meet them at the Twins on Edmure’s wedding._

_“Robb,” Jon spoke, “what do we do about this?”_

_“Yes, nephew,” Brynden added. “Do we stop Edmure’s wedding?”_

_“No,” Robb answered. “We let the wedding continue. And we turn the tables on them.”_

The Lord of the Crossing was so engulfed at his own perceived success that he did not notice the glint of steel that flashed from underneath Robb’s sleeves. Numerous daggers, in fact. It made it hard to move or to eat. But he did not care. All he wanted was to feed Frey’s head to the dogs. Grey Wind was too good for that task. Perhaps he should take on some of the habits of Bolton’s bastard.

As the Rains of Castamere began to play, exactly as confessed by one of the crossbowmen that Dacey herself accosted, Robb raised his goblet once more as he walked up the stairs to the platform where Lord Frey stood, stunned at the king’s actions.

This caused the musicians to suddenly halt the song.

Roose Bolton appeared to have moved from his seat, but Jon Snow, who was beside him, clapped a hand on his shoulder.

_“Stay beside Roose Bolton, Jon,” Robb commanded. “Make sure he doesn’t make any stupid moves. I want him alive. I will flay him myself if I have to.”_

_Greatjon was laughing now, all traces of anger gone from him._

_“But if he fights?”_

_“You know what to do.”_

“I wish that Lord Frey will forgive me for interrupting our feast,” Robb said with a wide grin. “But I have a few words to make, if you will let me.”

The King in the North almost laughed at the begrudging nod that the older man gave him. It was clear that the Lord of the Twins was too excited to see a dead Stark in his halls tonight.

“Let it not be said that a king does not know how to humble himself whenever he is in the wrong,” Robb began. “I have crossed Lord Walder’s bridge and was given a toll – a toll that is expected of me to pay as any man who has crossed the Twins should. I regret to say that I have broken that vow that I should wed one of the beautiful Frey descendants and make her queen.”

Giggling was heard in the room from the delighted and flattered females of Lord Walder’s house. Robb gave them a sly smile and continued, “I have decided to give Lord Walder a gift. I realize that a Lord Paramount is a paltry exchange for a king for one of your women.”

“Y-Your Grace, I – ” the old man simpered, shock written across his ancient features.

_“Lead the women out as soon as the fighting begins. I will give them to every northern house who has proven themselves loyal and wed them to whoever the lords choose – heirs, second sons – it doesn’t matter. I don’t want any of them close to my family.”_

_“What about Roslin Frey?”_

_Robb frowned. “If she is with child, she lives. If not, she will be a prisoner of the North until I decide what to do with her.”_

Robb raised a hand. “I hereby reward the castle of Harrenhal and all of its lands to House Frey, to be held by your heir until he ascends as Lord of the Crossing himself, then to be passed down to his heir and so forth. I trust that no curse can extinguish your numbers, Lord Frey.”

Laughter ensued, loudest of all from Greatjon Umber.

_“Harrenhal?” Umber boomed. “Why?!”_

_Robb grinned – a cold and heartless one that made the people before him stop. Something had changed in their king. Something that frightened them._

_“The cursed castle,” Galbart Glover finally spoke. “You intend to end House Frey’s male line.”_

_“Yes. Maybe except Olyvar. But he will never marry.”_

“You honor me so, Your Grace.” His grating voice brought the King back to the present.

“No man deserves greater honor,” Robb replied. “And also, I give him a most precious gift, far greater in value than anything that he has ever known.”

Rollam Westerling appeared from the shadows, carrying a small chest. He walked gingerly towards his king, presenting the object.

“Open it, Lord Frey,” Robb quietly said, eyes glittering like sapphires.

The Rains of Castamere began to play again.

“What is going on?” Walder asked, eyes wide as he looked at someone from the crowd. No doubt Roose Bolton.

“Open the box, Lord Frey,” Robb repeated. “Or are you disobeying your King?”

Walder shook his head and opened the box with trembling hands.

The box was empty.

Robb chuckled. “I forgot to add the gift.”

And with that, he pulled a Valyrian steel dagger from his sleeve and plunged it into Walder Frey’s stomach.

Arrows started flying from all directions, this time aimed at the numerous Freys present.

_“Double the coin that he paid to every executioner present in that blasted wedding,” Robb fiercely told Dacey. “Wring the information out of every single one of them and place loyal men on the second level of the hall to make sure that they shoot the **right** people.”_

_“Aye, Your Grace,” Dacey agreed with an almost wolfish smile of her own._

“I will send the Lannisters your regards, Lord Frey,” Robb murmured at the man who was gasping for breath. “I will make sure your traitorous friends will follow you soon. Winter has come for House Frey.”

“YOU BAS - !”

A quick slash to the throat, and Walder Frey was no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it for now! No betas, but I am looking for one! Any volunteers?  
> Again, I’m too lazy to review the chapter for any typos/grammatical mistakes. Forgive me. I’ll give the chapters a look once I’ve overcome this… disease? I dunno.  
> ASOIAF and characters are not mine. Wish they were, though.  
> Tried odd timeline mixes in the story. Italics for flashbacks and thoughts.  
> Thanks for the reviews and thanks for staying with me!

**Author's Note:**

> My first ASOIAF fanfic. Took me years of self-doubt before attempting to post a fanfic for one of my favorite books. Also the reason why I haven't posted anything for the Harry Potter series. The more I adore a work of literature, the harder it is for me to write something about it.
> 
> I have no beta and I haven't re-read this chapter, so expect errors.


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